TEMPER
by kashkow
Summary: Just a little adventure and drama with my favorite characters. Not part of my Seven Deadly Sins Universe, though like all my stories it takes place in the same universe.


Temper

By Ellen H.

Author's note-Takes place early in the series universe, of course that universe must subject itself to a few tweaks from me too.

Chapter 1-

With a muffled curse Kowalski straightened from placing the toolbox on deck and stretched his back. Down below, on a small scaffold hung from the deck, Patterson was finishing the last of a parts replacement task COB Jones had set them on hours earlier. They had finally gotten it done, and Ski would be happy to get below out of the hot sun and get a glass of cold water, or better yet some iced tea if Cookie had brewed a pot like he had yesterday. With the captain on board it was very likely, as Cookie tried to keep the skipper happy. The senior rating twisted his torso around trying to loosen the muscles of his lower back that were cramped from leaning over the side, working on the dive plane. As he twisted his eyes scanned up the dock, and saw a storm on the horizon.

"Uh oh" he muttered, "Red alert."

Patterson, just getting ready to climb up the side of the boat with the aide of a rope looked up as he caught Ski's low words. He could see that Kowalski was looking toward the dock, but could not see it from his position.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned. Ski casually sidled sideways, as if coming to help Patterson up the side. He leaned over so his voice would not carry across the water.

"The admiral is on his way down the dock at full emergency flank, and I think we're talking a reactor overload at the least." Ski mumbled. He offered a hand to the other rating. "Come on lets get this stuff below." Knowing that Patterson would hear the unspoken part of the statement, "_So we can hear what's going on_." They hastily gathered their tools, and were dodging down the aft hatch just as Nelson came across the gangplank. He barley acknowledged the officer of the deck, much less the colors, as he strode toward the main hatch and went inside.

Inside the great gray submarine things were moving at a far less intense and energetic pace than when she was at sea. Only a minimum number of crew were aboard, most working on maintenance tasks that needed to be done before their next cruise in four days. The Seaview had been in her homeport for the last two weeks, getting a retrofit on a generator that had proven itself inadequate to the task that it was meant for. It had nearly failed in the midst of a minor crisis, and Captain Crane had practically demanded an upgrade from the boats creator and owner, Nelson.

Nelson for his part had more than agreed that the generator's performance was substandard, and had made arrangements for a newer and more powerful version to be installed immediately. The retrofit had gone swiftly, and all was ready for a quick shakedown cruise. They would then proceed to Australia and pick up a load of scientists who were doing some research on the Tonga trench area. The cruise would not be very exciting, and there should be little if any reason to tax the generator, but at least they would know it was capable should the need arise.

Most of the crew and officers had taken the opportunity to take shore leave, and were just now starting to trickle back in. The command crew had rotated days off so that one of them was always on hand during the removal of the old generator and the installation of the new. For the last three days they had been going over supply lists and future schedules to make sure that everything was either on hand or on order with the Institute quartermaster. The Seaview was a large vessel with an equally large crew. She required a lot of supplies and the logistics were sometimes overwhelming. At least this downtime had allowed them a breathing space. The new captain, only three months after his appointment as such, was still getting used to the demands of the larger vessel.

Now, as the day was waning, the captain and executive officer sat in the nose of the Seaview and were working over the schedule for the next three months. They had contracts that would keep them busy for a good portion of that time. It was now a matter of scheduling shore leave for the crew in and around that schedule. It seemed that an unusual amount of crew needed time off during these months, and it was proving something of a puzzle as to how to meet everyone's needs and still have the Seaview fully staffed. They might even need to hire a few extra hands. There was always a waiting list of qualified personnel anxious to work on the famous submarine.

The two officers sat side by side at the table, their backs to the control room, scanning pages and making notes on the large calendar pages that were spread before them. This way they would compile all the requests, and the required personnel, and in the end they would see exactly what they were facing. It had been a method that had proven useful in the past. They were both deeply immersed in the process, not paying particular attention to what was happening behind them. Thus it was that Nelson's explosive words made both of them jump.

"Commander Crane what the hell did you think you were doing canceling our contract with Chadwick Industries?" He asked from about five feet away, in a loud and penetrating voice. Both of the younger men turned to face him as he approached to stand over them. His stance was aggressive, and he was going to have the answers he demanded. That was evident to everyone in the control room. The ratings that were working in the aft section of the control room edged toward the aft hatch, nervously. They were all experienced hands, and were well aware that when Nelson was on the warpath, any sane man got out of his way. Chief of the Boat Jones scowled at them, and motioned for them to return to their tasks, but he too made sure he gave Nelson a wide berth. He had worked with and for the admiral for a good many years in many capacities, and he had learned that when the man was in a temper it was best to be out of firing range.

Chip Morton, who had been concentrating on the scheduling, winced as he heard the tone with which Nelson spoke. He had known that this moment would come sometime. It was inevitable, and perhaps it was best that it happened here, rather than at sea when there would be no walking away, no time out. He had seen displays of Nelson's temper in the past. Usually the man was even tempered, though some would think him arrogant in his straightforward approach to most things. But there had been times, usually justifiable, that the Celtic blood of his ancestors came to the fore, and Nelson ripped someone a new head. The man's intelligence made it all the more nasty to deal with. He could tell you infinitely precise detail how and why you messed up, and why you would never be working on or near his submarine again. He was in no way shy when it came to speaking his mind or giving his opinion, and since he owned the boat, he felt, rightfully so, that his opinion overrode almost any other argument.

While Chip had no problem riding out the occasional hurricane of Nelson's temper himself, and he was completely prepared to enforce the man's rules and edicts, he had not looked forward to this moment. In the three months since Lee Crane had replaced the murdered John Phillips, he had shown himself to be an excellent captain, and had managed to gain the trust and loyalty of the crew and officers. He showed an aptitude for the boat that even Phillips, her captain since her launching, had never achieved. It was obvious that Crane had taken on the boat and crew as his responsibility and he took it very seriously. He was not prepared to compromise when it came to the safety of either.

When it came to temper, Lee Crane was one of the coolest men that Chip Morton had ever known. He had seen Crane take things that would have pushed almost any other man, including Chip himself, over the edge into a complete temper tantrum, and remain as cool as if he were simply having a casual conversation about the weather. He could coolly and patiently deal with people and things that simply would not conform to what was expected of them. At least as long as it didn't have anything to do with the safety of his boat and his crew.

Morton would never forget when he had first seen the Crane temper slip its leash. They had been at the Academy, first year midshipmen, and not yet friends, though they were roommates. Crane had entered the Academy just past the youngest possible age, and had been a slim, baby-faced boy. He had proven to be a formidable student and athlete however. It had been during an incident that happened during a physical training course that Morton had seen the Crane temper released from its usual tight control. It had been an eye opening experience for Chip Morton, and had led to the start of a friendship that had just recently been revived after many years of only distant contact. That had been the first, but not the only time. Unlike Nelson, Lee Crane did not sport his feelings about for all to see. He was a man of firm opinions, and deep feelings, but he kept most to himself. It made him appear cold and aloof to those who only got to know the surface facade. Morton had been surprised and honored when he had managed to get past that particular false front, and see the real man inside. He was also grateful that he had never felt the wrath of Lee Crane in full, all out force, though the flames had batted at him on several occasions.

As he looked over at Crane now, to see the effect of the admiral's words and body language on his friend, he felt a shiver of anticipation try to creep up his spine, but he ruthlessly fought it down. The temper in those golden eyes was banked for now, but Morton knew the subject was a sore one with Crane. Perhaps Nelson would calm down after he heard the explanation. After all he had seen Lee stand calmly before a Nelson tirade in the past, speaking calmly, being the voice of reason; perhaps this would go the same way. But, if Nelson's tempers were a firecracker, quick and intense, Crane's were a candle, burning steady and strong until it burnt out, and that temper had been raised by the very company that Nelson had mentioned just hours before. As Morton watched Crane calmly turned back to the table and laid down the pen he had been holding. He then rose to his feet, and glanced back down the length of the control room at the men working, or pretending to be working there. He stepped over and activated the crash doors, closing off the nose from the rest of the room. Once they had closed he turned back to Nelson who seemed to be doing a slow burn, waiting for an answer to his question. When Crane spoke it was in a calm voice, but Chip could sense the undercurrent, like a riptide beneath a calm surface, and wondered if Nelson heard it too.

"I believe that as captain of this vessel that I am responsible for the safety of the boat and crew, and part of that includes the purchase and use of quality parts and materials."

"Are you suggesting that Chadwick has been supplying us with substandard parts?" Nelson asked angrily. "I have known the owner and founder of the company for the last 23 years, and I can tell you, Mister, that he does not now, and never has produced low quality parts. His company provided a good portion of the original hull plates and other metalwork for this boat, and she has been operating well within safety standards."

"Be that as it may," Crane said, still calmly, but with an edge to his voice that did not bode well. "The current shipments of parts that we received, as well as those from the last two shipments, have all been substandard. The parts are not safe to use for the applications for which they are supposedly manufactured. That being the case, I contacted Chadwick, and spoke to their quality control division. They refused to acknowledge the problem, and I informed them that we would be finding another supplier." Morton, hearing that tone, rose to his feet, moving around so that he could see both men.

The color in Nelson's face increased. "Yes, I was informed that not only had you cancelled the _standing_ contract that I negotiated over 6 years ago but you also insisted on returning the newest shipment, and ALL of our stock." He started pacing back and forth in front of Crane, who stood watching him. After several laps he stopped in front of the younger man. "I have assured them that there was some kind of mistake, and that there would be no need for them to pick up anything. I also assured them that we would honor the contract that I had signed." He glanced at his watch. "It's too late now, but tomorrow you will contact Mr. Chadwick, personally, and apologize for your actions."

"No sir, I will not." Crane said in a tone that left no doubt about his refusal. Before Nelson could respond he continued. "You do not seem to be hearing what I am saying. The parts they are selling are substandard. They are not made to specs and they are _dangerous. _Whether the owner of the company is your friend or not does not change that fact. I will not apologize, nor will I accept the new shipment, or any of the previous shipments that do not test to spec."

"You will not accept…" Nelson was nearly speechless at the seeming arrogance of the statement. "If I may remind you _commander_. This is _my_ vessel, and _my_ decision regarding what goes on aboard her."

"_You_ made me the captain of this boat. That means that you made it _my_ responsibility to see to the safety of the boat and crew. I will not under _any_ circumstances knowingly take this boat to sea with substandard replacement parts. I have maintenance going through the files to determine what parts have been used from previous shipments, and have ordered them to have those parts tested, and if necessary replaced with parts from another supplier."

"Have _you_ been listening commander? There will be no other supplier. I don't know what has prompted this witch-hunt, but it ends now! You obviously been misinformed, and have acted hastily and unwisely." Nelson said decisively.

Crane turned and after a moment of sorting through the folders on the table, selected one. He held it out to Nelson, who stared at it for a moment without taking it. He then reached out and took it, but did not open it. Instead he was looking at Crane, who was staring back at him with cold eyes. Morton could see that Nelson had finally noticed something different about how the captain was acting. In the last several months there had been some disagreements over issues. Both men were opinionated, and while their goals were the same, they often had different ideas about how to achieve them. On those occasions the issues had been worked out without the addition of personal feelings, and had passed smoothly. Usually Crane had compromised to meet Nelson's requirements, but on occasion Nelson had changed his mind, and followed Crane's lead. But then it had never before been a matter of the _future_ safety of the crew and boat. Morton knew that was a matter on which Crane would never compromise, even with Nelson. Crane turned and collected the rest of the files into a neat stack. He then looked back at Nelson. His voice was cold, and precise. His posture was ramrod straight.

"If you would care to read the results of the tests that I had performed by our own labs _and_ by an independent lab which confirm our findings, perhaps you could move past the good old boy mentality and actually _listen_ to what I am saying. I will not put this boat in danger by using the parts from Chadwick until such time that they alter their production methods. I would like to remind you that while you may have built this boat using Chadwick parts, that has been over five years ago. Have you at any time in the last five years toured their production facilities or sampled their parts?" He could see the answer on Nelson's face and continued.

"I can almost guarantee you that your friend hasn't been on the production floor of his business in the last three years, which is about when the quality began going down. I have _published_ reports from other industries that used their parts that began finding that the products they were buying were being made of cheaper materials. If the owner is a friend of yours, and you wish to give him the benefit of the doubt, I would suggest to you tell him that someone in his organization is going to get him sued for wrongful death or, since they are supplying the military, maybe even prosecuted under federal statutes on misrepresentation." He looked at his watch then turned and scooped up the pile of files. He then moved around the table toward the spiral stairs that led toward the officer's quarters.

" Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting in ten minutes in my office." Morton noticed that Crane didn't mention that the meeting was with a new supplier for the parts in question. Before he got to the stairs he stopped, and stood for a moment, unmoving, then he turned and faced Nelson.

"You may wish to remember, A_dmiral_," at the emphasis on the rank, Morton felt his XO mask almost slip into a smile, but calling on years of experience he kept his face expressionless. "That I hold a Master's degree in Marine Engineering, and while I might not have numerous PhDs after my name, or own a company that produces metal products, I just might know what I am talking about. I too am grateful that the man saved your life, and I understand the loyalty and obligation that you feel toward him, but that loyalty, and that obligation, should end where the safety of this boat and crew begins. As for the contract, perhaps you should think about the one you made with me just over three months ago. If I have misunderstood my duties, or the authority and responsibility that go along with them, then perhaps I should consider canceling THAT contract as well. If you will excuse me." With that he was gone up the spiral stairs, leaving a silent pair behind him.

Chapter 2-

Admiral Harriman Nelson, founder and head of the Nelson Institute of Marine Research slammed the phone back onto the hook, and jumped to his feet. Disdaining the intercom he yelled through the open door of his office to Angie, his secretary.

"Angie! Where is Commander Crane?"

After a slight delay during which Nelson paced and smoked, Angie appeared in the doorway. "Commander Crane is aboard Seaview, admiral." She reported. "Shall I call him for you?"

Nelson crushed out his cigarette and grabbed his cover off the hook near the door. "No. I'll go down. Hold my calls for the rest of the day." He left the office, moving quickly, and headed toward the docking area. As he walked his mind returned to the phone call he had just finished.

He had been working in his office, finally seeing an end to the paperwork that always seemed to take over his desk while they were at sea. He had looked forward to spending the next couple of days in his lab, working on several experiments that had been pushed aside over the last months. He would be able to take them along when they sailed in a few days. He had put the last signature on the last report, and was getting ready to retreat to the sanctuary of his lab when Angie had called to tell him that Arthur Chadwick was on the phone. He had known Chadwick for almost a quarter of a century. They had served together during World War 2.

They might not have been friends if it hadn't been for a kamikaze attack on the destroyer that they had been on in the South Pacific. The gunners had managed to chew the zero into a much smaller projectile by the time it had hit the ship, but the flaming wreckage had still made a terrible impact. Either by design, or luck, the pilot had managed to hit amidships and the damage had been extensive. Nelson had found himself trapped in a crushed compartment, with fire raging all around him. Arthur Chadwick had come running through the flames and freed him before he could be burned alive, or succumb to smoke inhalation. He had had of course been grateful, and they had become if not good friends, at least more than just fellow officers. They had not served together again, but many years later when Nelson had been looking for a production facility to produce the hull plates and the rest of the parts for the Seaview, he had turned to the man who had saved his life so many years before.

Chadwick had taken the money left him by his father and opened the plant not long after the war when he resigned his commission. It had become a large concern. He had been more than happy to contract with Nelson to create the special plates that made up the hull of the Seaview, as well as the more mundane parts that made her work. They had renewed their friendship, and Nelson had occasionally dined with Chadwick and his wife over the last six years. He had anticipated another invitation to dinner when he picked up the phone, and had been surprised at the aggrieved tone that had greeted him.

After the initial pleasantries Chadwick had gotten to the point. "Damn it Harry, I thought we were friends, but then you let some underling call up and cancel our contract. And then to add insult to injury he demands that we pick up the parts and cut you a check for them. If you were unhappy with something, all you had to do was call me, and I would have taken care of it myself." Nelson had been completely taken off guard. He had no idea what Chadwick was talking about. He said as much to his friend.

"Well then, you have some kind of loose cannon over there, Harry, and you better find out what's going on. My son is seeing to the daily running of the place since I retired, and he said that the man called up and started grilling our quality control people. He asked all kinds of questions, and accused us of producing substandard products. He said that unless we brought the parts up to specs that the Institute would no longer be buying from us, and that the contract was voided because of misrepresentation. He was damn pushy I'm told."

"Who was this that called, Arthur? I can tell you right now that I never authorized any such call. Give me a name and I'll get to the bottom of it." There was the sound of shuffling paper over the phone, and then Chadwick replied.

"The man said his name was Crane, Commander Crane. Do you know who that is?" Nelson found himself at a loss for words for a moment. When he had thought about who could have made such a mistake, his new, young captain had not crossed his mind.

"Yes. I know the name. I'll take care of this Arthur. You may disregard anything that Commander Crane may have said. In fact I'll have him call and apologize to you personally. I apologize for the upset this must have caused you."

His equanimity restored Chadwick had magnanimously waved the apologies aside. "I know how it can be getting good help Harry." He commiserated. "Sometime you have to slap these young kids down or they try to push themselves where they don't belong. You'll have to come out and have dinner with us soon. Grace will give you a call and we'll see if you can work it in your schedule. Glad we could work this out Harry, I would hate to loose you as a customer." With that they had said their goodbyes and Nelson had felt the anger rising in him.

He had no doubts about Lee Crane's qualifications when it came to captaining the Seaview. The young commander had come to know the boat better than her designer, and was quickly winning the favor of the crew and officers. He was happy with the choice he had made, though there really hadn't been another choice after Phillips had been killed. Crane was the best that the Navy had, and Nelson was convinced that any other captain would have failed when they had gone against Gamma. But that confidence had not extended past the running of the vessel. The man was young, sometimes far younger than Nelson was comfortable with if the truth were told.

Nelson, better than anyone other than Chip Morton, knew just how capable Crane was, regardless of his age. He knew some of what the young man did for ONI, and he knew to some degree what obstacles he had overcome to enter the Academy so young. But knowing those things he still was reminded that he really didn't know Crane. He had known the young midshipman quite well, and had followed his Naval career from a distance, but he man himself was something of a mystery as of yet.

There had been a few occasions in the last three months when Nelson had found himself having to justify his orders to the young captain. He had to admit that while he had at first been taken aback by the man's daring to question his orders, he had swiftly seen that Crane asked questions so that he would understand, and acted quickly once he had reached that understanding. Nelson had been even more surprised when he found himself changing his orders at the advice of the younger man. Crane's command style was radically different than Phillips, and he was in no way awed by the presence of an Admiral, and the owner of the boat, aboard. But, that was on the boat, this was something else again.

Nelson had worked for years to build up the Institute to where it was today. He had done it through hard work, and persistence, and counted some of the success to the contacts he had made with men like Arthur Chadwick. He knew how hard it would have been to build the Seaview if he had been unable to work with someone, as he had been able to do with Arthur. He had wanted to be involved in every part of the process, and Chadwick had allowed him that freedom, giving him the run of the plant. Crane could not understand that obligation, and had in Nelson's opinion far overstepped his authority. As he thought about it, he remembered telling Crane about Chadwick's involvement in the building of Seaview, and the way they had met. It seemed almost a direct slap in the face for Crane to have done what he had. A disregard of Nelson's decisions, an overstepping of his authority.

By the time he was on the dock he was in high temper. He knew that he should do this calmly, but he kept hearing Arthur Chadwick's aggrieved tone, and kept seeing the man coming through the fire to save him so long ago. He had never before had this type of problem with an employee. John Phillips had been a good captain, though perhaps not as intuitive as Crane, and he had been satisfied to allow things to be as they had been.

Perhaps Crane's change of status had gone to his head. As a career Navy man he had no doubt gotten used to the regimented manner of the service, where most if not all of the Captain's authority was spelled out in detail. Here on the Seaview the authority was less defined, and more open to interpretation. Nelson had not thought that arrogance was going to be a problem with Crane. The man was good, and he knew it, but that knowledge had come through as confidence, not arrogance. Given that, Nelson could only see this interference as a blatant misuse of the authority that Nelson had more or less given the younger man. Misuse of power was something he would not tolerate, not the usurpation of his own prerogative to decide what went on with his boat.

By the time he had dropped down into the control room he was as mad as he had been in quit some time. A small voice in the back of his head was warning him that this was an ill advised approach on an unknown but potentially valuable target, but he allowed his anger to drown out the voice, and proceeded forward with the straight on attack. He should have listened.

After the first question the weight of the discussion had very defiantly shifted to Crane. The young man had closed the crash doors, blocking out the eyes and ears of the curious crewmen working in the control room. Nelson had not given thought to the others present, and the impact on crew moral. There would be enough speculation as it was he was sure. Obviously, even while under an unexpected attack, the younger man had considered the impact and took steps to minimize the scuttlebutt that would be flowing through the boat. The calm response took some of the wind out of Nelson's sails though he didn't allow it to show, telling himself that the younger man's arrogance would no doubt include a sense of complete entitlement.

He should have taken the opportunity to think about the whole thing a little more at that point. As much as Nelson tried to ignore the increasing volume of the voice of reason in his head, he was finding it difficult, and even as he more or less accused the younger man of gratuitously exercising a power he did not have, he had found himself starting to listen.

The younger man had talked, never slipping into excuses, but simply offering in calm and quiet tones his reasons for taking the steps he had taken. As the conversation had continued, Nelson had noticed a change come over Crane. It wasn't anything overt, as was his own display. Instead it was a subtle change. The young captain's posture became even straighter, his eyes cooler, and his tone sharper and colder.

It was at this point that Nelson had started to get an inkling that he had made a very bad tactical error. He had done what he had advised many midshipmen against. He had attacked without knowing all the facts, and in doing so had managed to push the correct buttons to get the younger man to lose his temper. But unlike Nelson, Crane did not let his temper overcome his judgment. Evidently seeing that his reasonable words were not having an impact, Crane had decided to counterattack, and he had done so very effectively. To Nelson's surprise he had produced lab results backing up his actions, and had suggested that Nelson was allowing his familiarity with Chadwick to cloud his judgment, and put the boat at risk. It was uncomfortably close to the truth, and Nelson felt the last of his temper drain away, leaving him with an uncomfortable feeling of having made a very costly mistake.

Chapter 3-

As Nelson stood and watched the slim form of his captain disappear up the spiral stairs, he heard the last words echoing in the silence that was left behind. "_Perhaps I should cancel that contract, too_." He glanced at Morton, who had turned expressionless eyes upon him once Crane was gone. The blue eyes were speculative, and Nelson suspected that they had found him wanting. For all it's blandness, there was accusation in that look, and Nelson found embarrassment rapidly replacing the temper. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again.

"Damn it, that was asinine." He muttered. Aimed at himself, the curse didn't express the flood of disquiet and the self-disgust that was filling him.

"With the admiral's permission, I agree." Morton said, moving back to the table to collect the remaining files. Nelson looked at Morton, seeing the stiff posture and the slight bit of censure that had come into the face. He gave a humorless laugh.

"And without my permission too, I would say." Nelson observed. He sat at the table, and placed the still unopened file in front of him. He noticed Morton looking at it. He picked it up and waved it slightly. "Do I even need to read this?" He asked.

Morton gave a half shrug. "I wouldn't have to, but maybe you do." He said, his eyes not meeting Nelson's.

Nelson dropped the file to the table and leaned back in the chair. "Get it said Chip."

The blue eyes turned to him, and he saw the disapproval in full. "What do you want me to say, sir? That you were wrong? I think you realized that. That if you aren't careful you'll lose the best captain this boat could have? I hope that you know that, too. To be perfectly frank, sir, I think that you have had more than enough input from the outside. This is between you and _Captain_ Crane." Morton saw the impact of his emphasis on the title, and was satisfied that his point was made.

He gathered up the files and tucked them under his arm. Nelson was still watching him, and did not seem to be overly concerned with the tone of Morton's reply. Chip had a sudden urge to help the older man out. After all, what Nelson did next would affect not just the admiral and captain; it would affect the whole boat.

"He doesn't lose his temper very often, but when he does it can get pretty intense. He doesn't hold a grudge, but he doesn't forget either. Chadwick played dumb, even when he presented them with the results of the independent lab. By the time he had been kicked around to three different departments and two different vice presidents, all in full denial, he was pretty hot. If they had just admitted that they had changed their production method, and were no longer at specs, it would have ended there. But he won't put his crew or his boat in danger because of incompetence, or sentiment." He glanced at Nelson, satisfied that the point had been made and continued, "If you expect him to do that, even at your say so, then you might as well start looking for another captain…..and another XO." With that he turned as sharply as Crane had and made his way to the stairs. As he ascended he saw Nelson sitting still in his chair, his face thoughtful.

Chapter 4-

Two hours later Nelson was back in his office, seated at his desk, smoking a cigarette, and staring out the window. Sitting on his blotter was the file that Crane had handed him, still unopened. After Morton had left the nose, Nelson had sat for quite some time, considering the words the executive officer had offered him.

He was embarrassed at his conduct. It had been both immature and unprofessional. He had allowed his temper, and his sentiments, to overrule his logic. He should have trusted the decision he had made just over three months ago. He had trusted Lee Crane with one of the most important things in his life, and he should have remembered why.

He had left a message with Lila, Lee Crane's secretary, asking him to come to his office when he was done with his meeting. That had been over an hour and forty-five minutes ago, and Nelson wasn't sure that Crane was going comply. Of course he had no idea how long the meeting would take, and he had not yet decided what he would do if Crane did not appear.

He was contemplating what he would do when the intercom buzzed. He pressed down the button. "I thought you had left Angie." He said after a glance at the clock. It was just after 1715.

"I was finishing that last proposal, but I'm on my way out now. Commander Crane is here to see you. Should I send him in?"

"Yes. Have a good evening." Nelson replied. He crushed out his cigarette, and rolled his chair up to the desk. When the door opened and Crane entered he was sitting with his hands folded on the desk, waiting.

Crane came to attention before the desk, though he did not salute. Nelson nodded and indicated that Crane should sit. The younger man's face was expressionless, a perfect imitation of Chip Morton's XO mask. The golden eyes held none of the cold fire that had been there earlier, but they also held none of the expression that Nelson had come to expect. It was obvious that Crane was waiting, prepared for whatever would come. Nelson looked down at the file, and his own folded hands. Then he looked back at Crane.

"I must apologize to you, Lee, for my conduct earlier today. I was wrong to approach you in such a manner, and I was wrong to act without all the facts." The golden eyes showed no response. Nelson sighed. Evidently once lost, trust was not going to be given again easily. He knew what Crane wanted to hear. "I let sentiment cloud my judgment and temper overcome my good sense. I hope that you will believe me when I say that I would never knowingly endanger the boat or crew by allowing substandard parts to be used." He stopped and looked down again at the file. He picked it up and handed it across the desk. Crane took it, and set it in his lap.

"If it makes any difference to you, I have not studied the data in that file. I hope that you understand that in no way was my ….tantrum this afternoon a reflection of how I view you, or your competency to do the job I hired you to do. A job I might add that I hope you will continue to do." He sighed, as there was still no response from Crane. It was looking as if his apology was not going to be enough. Morton had warned him that Crane tended to not forget, but he had hoped he would be able to forgive.

Chapter 5

As far as Lee Crane was concerned, the person who had been out of line that afternoon had been the captain of the boat. He had spent the time since he had walked away from Nelson on the Seaview thinking about what he might have just thrown away because of wounded pride. Oh he had been angry that afternoon, but not with Nelson. First he had been angry with the people at Chadwick, starting with the people in their quality control department, moving on to the Vice President in charge of production, and then to the Vice President in charge of the company, a man by the name of Arthur Chadwick, Jr.

He had been prepared for denials, after all anything else would be an admission of fraud, but he had been prepared for that with the lab results. He had faxed those to two different numbers, and had gotten much the same response however. The quality control people had suggested an error on the part of the labs, the Vice President of production had suggested that he didn't know what he was talking about and hinted that perhaps someone with a science background could explain it to him in easier language. Arthur Chadwick Jr. had reminded him of the contract, and basically tried to hang up on him. At that point Crane had lost his temper and told Chadwick to pick up not only the newest delivery but also every part that still remained in their stock. He also told Chadwick that the Institute would not be purchasing anything further from them. When Chadwick had blustered about the contract, Crane had coldly reminded him that fraud negated the contract, and suggested that should Chadwick Industries attempt to uphold the contract Crane would be sure that the lab results were made public. He had also been sure to tell Jr. that he would be notifying the military regarding the quality of the parts they had been buying. He hadn't considered it a threat. He would not allow ANY boat or crew to be put in danger if he could help it.

He had regretted his temper almost as soon as he had hung up the phone, though he did not regret the decision. It would have been better if he had taken his information to Nelson and allowed him to deal with the owner and founder of the company. He had heard the story of how Arthur Chadwick Sr. had saved Nelson's life, and was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt about his knowledge of the problem. He had determined that after his afternoon meeting with Chip to work on the schedules, he would go to Nelson and explain what he had found. He had also made an appointment with the representative from a local supplier that could at least meet their needs for the next cruise, if not in the long term.

The schedules had been going well. He and Chip worked well together in on so many levels, a fact that had brought a quiet satisfaction to the position that had already offered him more than he thought he would ever have. He had told Morton about the results of his calls, and the XO had told him that he had done the right thing, he had even indicated that he thought that Crane had let them off easy. They had been working the leave requests when Nelson's voice had made them both jump.

What followed was a scene that Crane deeply regretted. He had never known anyone that he respected as much as he did Nelson. Since they had met many years ago, in fact, even before then, Nelson had been the example that Crane sought to emulate. He was however no genius, so he had turned to being the best that he could be when it came to the Navy. He had patterned his career on being the officer that he felt that Nelson would be proud to know. He hoped that he succeeded, and had taken Nelson's offering of the captaincy of Seaview as an indication that it was so.

Some of his friends had suggested that he held Nelson up too high, had put him on a pedestal from which he would sooner or later fall, to Crane's disappointment. And it seemed that they had been right, at least in part. But it was not in Nelson that he was disappointed, but himself. He had made Nelson into some super human in his mind, someone divorced from the feelings and obligations of a normal human.

What had gotten him angry this afternoon was not Nelson's attitude, he understood and valued the loyalty with which Nelson treated his friends. What had angered him was that Chadwick had used that loyalty against Crane, turning Nelson against him, despite the facts. That was unforgivable. What was also unforgivable was that Crane had allowed his temper to make him say things that should have remained unsaid, and to make an offer that he sincerely hoped would not be taken. He wasn't sure what he would do if Nelson decided to cancel his contract.

He knew, as well as he knew anything, that Nelson would not endanger the crew once he knew that facts, and that he would not look down on Crane for having only a Master's Degree when he himself held so many PhDs. It had been the attitude of the Vice Presidents at Chadwick, that he was just some ignorant swab jockey that could be put off with a pat on the head and a few big words that had gotten that particular goat. He had graduated first in his class at Annapolis, had gone onto get his Master's Degree in Marine Engineering with a specialization in submarine applications, and knew himself to be a reasonably intelligent man. Of course, that all went away when he let his temper get the best of him.

He had known it from a young age, when temper could get you not only in trouble, but also dead. Later in life temper had been strictly discourage as the resort of the common man, and beneath his new station. But the temper had remained, beneath the surface, leashed by his will and his intelligence. He had found ways to harness the energy that would be wasted in temper, and had used it to get where he was today, but every now and then, it slipped away from him, and this time it might cost him more than he could pay.

He wanted nothing as much as he wanted to stay here, at the helm of the Seaview, at the side of Chip Morton, at the command of Harriman Nelson. He might have just thrown it all away however.

When he had finished his meeting he found a note his secretary had left him saying that Admiral Nelson had requested his presence in his office, no matter what the time. Crane had briefly considered simply going home and saying that he hadn't got the note, but then he was ashamed of his cowardice. He would face this as he had faced other things in his life, head on. The short walk to Nelson's office had seemed even shorter, and he was soon entering the office after Angie announced him.

Nelson had seemed very solemn, his hands folded on top of the file that Crane recognized as the one he had given him. He felt his stomach churn, and fought to keep the expression from his face. Crane had seated himself and had listened as Nelson apologized for losing his temper earlier that day. It was not what he was expecting, and he found himself speechless with relief, he was shaken from it by Nelson's next words.

He took the file without really thinking about it, hearing the words that Nelson spoke.

The words he had wanted to hear, needed to hear. He raised his eyes to Nelson's and tried to find the words he needed to tell him what had to be said. He knew he had taken too long when he saw the regret in Nelson's eyes. He decided to simply speak his heart, and hope it was enough.

"I too have to apologize, sir. I should not have spoken to you in that way, no matter what provocation. You are my superior officer, and if nothing else deserve my respect. I was angry from my discussion with the people at Chadwick, and I let it get away from me. It won't happen again." Nelson was shaking his head as he said the last. Crane was relieved to see that he was smiling as he did it.

"Don't make promises that you can't keep Lee." Nelson said his tone relieved. "I have a feeling that this will not be the last time that tempers flare will flare between us. We are both what you might call dominant personalities in our own ways, and we are bound to clash over how things get done." He rose to his feet, and Crane rose with him. Nelson came to stand in front of the younger man, and offered his hand, which Crane took.

Their eyes met, and Crane knew that the admiral was right. There would be times that they would clash, but now they would know that it could happen with out it being personal, without it being the end of this thing that they were building. They would work out whatever argument they had, and get back to the work that they both loved. That was the way it had to be. Nelson reached up and patted Crane's shoulder.

"What do you say to some dinner? You can tell me whom else you've found to supply our parts needs, and I'll tell you about the phone call I placed to Arthur Chadwick. I think you'll find it as interesting as he did." He led the way out of the office, talking as he walked, Crane followed along behind, a slight smile on his face. All was right in his world again.

Epilog-

Chip Morton stepped out of the shadow of the building as Nelson's car pulled out of the lot. He had seen the two men exit the office building together, dark head bent to the red one, listening as Nelson expounding on something, his hands waving in the air. They had gotten in Nelson's car, and left together. Morton smiled as he thought about the two senior officers.

Two more physically opposite men would be hard to find, but on the inside they were incredibly similar. Honest, forthright, intelligent, honorable, dedicated men, very good at what they did, and unwilling to compromise on how it got done. They would make a formidable team, and Morton found himself honored to know that he would be on that team with them.

There would be rocky times as the two strong characters vied for control, and he sensed that sometimes one would lead and sometimes the other. Whatever happened, it wouldn't be boring, and he would be along to act as referee, sounding board, or voice of reason. Much more than tempers could have been lost today, but it had worked out in the end, and it would continue to work out, he was confident of that.

He glanced at his watch. He had a date in thirty minutes. He was thinking that a little champagne just might be in order. He felt like celebrating all of a sudden.

The end


End file.
